


Idiot

by TheLadyRebel



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, rakayah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyRebel/pseuds/TheLadyRebel
Summary: Rakan has taken a hit meant for Xayah and now lies on his deathbed because of it. Xayah is in shambles. It should've been her...





	Idiot

Xayah's throat tightens and tears well in her eyes. She wants to say something meaningful, anything, but instead the words that pass her lips are an insult spoken breathlessly; four simple words, yet they hold such emotion that she feels as though she may very well break apart as she says them. 

"You're an idiot," she whispers, barely loud enough for Rakan to hear. She stares down at him now, gaze intent on the gradual rise and fall of his chest. His breaths are shallow, ragged, but at least they're present. She's unsure of what she would do should they stop. 

"An idiot," Xayah repeats, clenching her fists to prevent herself from reaching out to touch him. He looks so frail now, like he may crumble should she lay a finger on him. She hates it. Rakan is not fragile; he is strong and steadfast. He shouldn't be lying here, dying in her place.

It should've been you.

The sentence echoes, over and over, in her mind. Rakan had been quick to swoop in and save her from the oncoming strike. Had he not placed himself in the enemy's path, Xayah would've wound up with a blade thrust deep into her abdomen. Instead, it had been Rakan who had taken the brunt of the attack. 

It should've been you.

She bites into her lower lip to stifle a sob. Crying was never something she'd been good at. Her tears came far too fast, her chest heaved and her makeup ran. It wasn't a good look on her and it never would be. Hell, if Rakan could see her now, he'd no doubt laugh. She was sure she looked completely foolish…

"It should've been me," Xayah muttered, nails pricking the skin of her palms. She closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to look upon the man that lies before her. It pained her to see him so still, so spiritless.

"But it wasn't," came a voice so hoarse she scarcely recognizes it as Rakan's. Her eyes shoot open and she stares at him in surprise.

"Don't talk," she reprimands, though her tone is choked by the tightness in her throat. She moves now, leaning over him, and takes his face into her hands. Her touch is gentle, careful, as opposed to her usual brashness. She doesn't want to hurt him, but she has to be sure he's alright.

Xayah's brow furrows as she looks into Rakan's eyes. She searches for signs that he may be fading, ones the healer had warned her about following his initial treatment, but she finds nothing. He stares up at her, curious, but alert. She's relieved, to say the least.

"You're cute when you're worried about me," Rakan remarks. He is tired, very much so, but never too tired to tease Xayah. He lifts a hand, fingertips brushing against the back of her wrist, but she releases him with a roll of her eyes and settles down beside him. 

If he's well enough to joke then he'll live; Xayah has no doubt. That is why she moves away from him, retreating back into her usual reserved self. Rakan hates it when she leaves. Even if she's only gone for a moment. Even if she's sitting beside him, hands in her lap and just far enough away that he can't reach out and touch her like she is now. He wishes she'd come back…

"It doesn't even hurt, you know," he offers. An attempt to ease the tension he's caused. He's unsure if it works, given the way she purses her lips, but at least she's looking at him again. "In fact, in a day or two, I'll probably be back on my feet."

Xayah lets loose a sigh. She's thankful for his reassurance. It doesn't ease her fears, not in the slightest, but he's trying — for her sake — and that's what really matters. 

"We're a few days ahead of schedule," she replies, lifting a hand to her face in an effort to discreetly wipe away the dampness on her cheeks, "you should take some time to rest and recuperate. We can move on when you're healed."

Rakan considers her words. He's never been one to stay still for long, but even he knows that the injury he sustained was a bad one. Xayah is right. He needs to rest (as boring as he knows it will be lying in bed for days on end). He nods to her and closes his eyes. There is no need for him to fuss.

From beside him, Xayah rises, smoothing out the fabric of her dress. She must tell the healer he's awake and that their worst fears are over, but just as soon as she stands Rakan's eyes are open once more. A hint of sadness flickers across his pale gaze and she wonders, for a moment, if she's disappointed him somehow.

"Stay?" he asks, staring up at her expectantly. Her heart ached at the sight of him beneath her and she frowns. She can't bring herself to leave him; not when he looks at her like that...

Wordlessly, Xayah takes a seat, this time behind Rakan. She scoots forward slowly, taking his head into her lap, and softly runs her fingers along the side of his face. He's smiling now, without a trace of that gloom she'd seen in his eyes when she tried to leave. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to stay with him, just a little while longer.

"Get some rest," she says.

"Anything for you," Rakan replies.


End file.
